Poetry

Written by Christianity and the Confusion on August 22nd, 2005

This page is for the sharing through poetry the joys and sorrows that life has brought. Please no profanity.

 

3 Comments so far ↓

  1. Anonymous says:

    On the path of life there are various obstacles;

    Obstacles that can make the journey hazardous. 

     

    Even the most experienced traveler can stumble;

    A misstep here or a trip there;

    A rock or a hole in the ground can bring a pilgrim down.

     

    The wayfarer must watch his every step less he loses he footing;

    Beyond the challenges of the road there are many dangers.

     

    From behind the bushes can come living hazards;

    The unforeseen bite of a snake or a wild beast;

    And the adventure comes to an end.

     

    However the most rampant menace is far more deceptive;

    For as a tourist he can become engulfed in the beauty of life;

    Engulfed to the point that he misses the very purpose of trek.

     

    Looking at everything and seeing nothing;

    For the beauty of the world can be blinding.

     

    If he does not stay focused he will find himself far from the path;

    So far away that it would take a miracle to find it.

  2. Anonymous says:

    Why? October 25, 2005
    Why oh why did 2,000 die?
    They died for ambition and a terrible lie.
    Oh weep and mourn, and feel their pain
    For we know that all of them died in vain

    Saddam has weapons that can kill everyone.
    How many have been found? Not one, not one.
    Oh weep and mourn, and feel their pain
    For we know that all of them died in vain

    Tell their mothers and sweethearts they had to die.
    Why? For that one awful and terrible lie.
    Oh weep and mourn, and feel their pain
    For we know that all of them died in vain

    They accepted their orders like good soldiers should.
    Why can

  3. Anonymous says:

    A Special World
    A special world for you and me
    A special bond one cannot see
    It wraps us up in its cocoon
    And holds us fiercely in its womb.
    Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
    Gently nestling us to the fold
    Like silken thread it holds us fast
    Bonds like this are meant to last.
    And though at times a thread may break
    A new one forms in its wake
    To bind us closer and keep us strong
    In a special world, where we belong.
    – Sheelagh Lennon –

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